


Phoenix King

by Druddigonite



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21686425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Druddigonite/pseuds/Druddigonite
Summary: Azula is a battle song, played out in reverse.
Relationships: Azula & Ty Lee (Avatar)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Phoenix King

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr [here](https://druddigoon.tumblr.com/post/187459022342/phoenix-king)

When Ty Lee first met her, she was just five; a girl in robes too large for her figure (there hadn’t been a royal daughter in the family for a long, long time), hair slipping free of its topknot, Ursa’s hand covering her entire shoulder. When she smiled, she did it with her eyes and round child’s cheeks not yet thinned from the crown, in a crooked grin much like her brother’s. 

_Hi_ , Azula said, executing a perfect bow despite the awkward angles of her clothing. 

She lacked the usual cadence that would come to define her later years, though even from an early age her voice had a weight to it, a heaviness that spoke of promises and things to come. (She’s always loved that about the princess: how she said “My friend, Ty Lee” like a vow.)

(And maybe it was the tint of a rosy retrospection, the naivety of childhood, or maybe the delusions of an acrobat who focused on a pinprick of light in the darkness, but Azula is good, Ty Lee believed, born loyal and caring to the things that matter most to her, if not a bit clumsy with friends and family. But the universe spat on her, honed her like a blade whose edge she can’t control, fourteen years old and already at war. Born unlucky.) 

Ty Lee was pulled along as if against a current, swept up by the wind, and the world dimmed and the sky turned grey and there she is, facing the friend with the contours of steel bars between them. Azula’s hands are clenched against her sides–hands that had helped steady her handstands and collect flowers on dew-lit mornings and tend to the bruises she couldn’t reach–and she wishes she would reach out, rub the tension out of them. They’ve grown since she was away. Azula has, too. 

_We used to catch fireflies together and stick them in each other’s robes_ , she says, recalling Azula’s tinkling laughter as they ambushed Mai, _I-I don’t know what changed._

A stranger’s voice croaks out. _The Azula you knew died a long time ago._

Ty Lee blinks and there is the Phoenix King, singed robes on stone and trailing ashes in her wake. She bows, and leaves the prison cells.


End file.
